Eventually I got myself together enough to drive home. Still in shock, the
collar tight around my neck, the chastity device and associated piercings sore
and uncomfortable in my crotch. The rest of my body was aching too from all the
positions I'd been forced into. Basically my whole body and mind were stunned
and still trying to assess what had happened to me. I parked up and gingerly
walked up the stairs to my flat, not knowing what to expect when I entered.
Opening the door and stepping into the hallway, everything seemed fairly normal.
I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief, no major surprises so far.
Then I spotted a webcam device on the wall above the door covering the hallway
area. A cable led from it, which I followed into the living room. Another cam
was mounted on the wall, then another, and another. The kitchen had 2 cams, I
ran to my bedroom, another 3 cams in there. Bathroom 2 cams. My whole flat was
completely wired. I ran over to my desk in the living room. There was a note
on my computer keyboard, it was from the Leather Masters. It confirmed what I'd
just discovered myself, that my whole flat was wired for webcams. They'd been
in my flat and taken control. My computer had been installed with the software
to cope with all these cams, all cables joining into a box which fed into my
computer. I had a broadband link so I was instructed to turn it on and leave it
all running. They had installed some messenger software too, so they could
messenger me with any instructions or orders. Using the cams they could watch
me at home 24/7, every angle was covered. I was their prisoner in my own flat!
The note went on, they had decided that as I was now their slave, they would
control everything, even what I wear. I was instructed to check my wardrobe,
which I did immediately - they had removed virtually all of my jeans and
trousers and most of my tops. All that was left was a suit and a couple of
shirts for work, the rest was clothes they had placed there, leather jeans in a
variety of colours, pvc and rubber gear too. From that moment on I was only
permitted to wear a suit for work, the rest of the time I had to wear what they
told me to. When wearing the work suit I had to wear a rubber all-in-one suit
underneath. There was no flexibility in this and, of course, they had the web
cams to make sure that I followed their instructions. I soon realised that
their grip on me during that weekend would not let up for now. I had 5 years of
this ahead of me. I crumpled to the floor.
After a couple of minutes a beeping noise came from my computer. It was a
message from Leather Masters. The subject was "Sunday night instructions". The
instructions read that I had to dress in the rubber body suit immediately and
tie myself into bed spread-eagle, until the morning. I had 5 minutes to do so
or I would face punishment. My heart beating I set about getting ready. I had
no choice but to strip off, knowing full well that they were probably watching
my every move. I pulled on the rubber suit, with difficulty, it was so tight.
But I managed it with a couple of minutes to spare. Using the cuffs and ropes
they had left for me in my wardrobe I set about fixing myself in position,
turning out the light just before clicking the last cuff in place. That was it,
although I knew I could release myself, I knew that my Masters would be
watching, listening, possibly in shifts...maybe they weren't, but I couldn't
take the risk. Everything was happening so quickly, other than during my drive
home, mostly in tears, I hadn't had a moment to myself, and I had the feeling I
wouldn't any more, certainly not at home. I tried to get comfy, the tight
rubber suit irritating my chastity device terribly.
Monday morning I called in sick. I'd hardly slept, despite how tired I was. A
whole night fixed in the spread-eagle position, the rubber suit clinging tight
to my body, including all the sore bits. At 8am I released myself and phoned
the office straight away, leaving a message with the boss. I never call in sick
unnecessarily so I was sure they'd believe me. I removed the rubber suit,
inspected my body to check recovery, which was very slow, and then showered,
feeling totally conspicuous glancing up at the web cams in the bathroom, knowing
they could be watching my every move. I took time in the shower to tenderly
clean the piercings, flinching each time I doused them in soap.
I knew the Masters would be in touch soon, once they realised I wasn't going to
work, so I changed back into the rubber suit (my instructions were that I had to
wear that, or whatever else they desired) whenever I was home alone. I made a
bowl of cereal and I heard a "ping" of the messenger programme contacting me. I
moved over to the computer, nervously. The message read quite simply, "why
aren't you at work, you lazy piece of shit". I typed my excuses back, careful
to end each sentence with "my Masters". There was a pause and I thought that
was it, they just wanted to check up on me, I thought. Phew! I moved over to
the sofa and gingerly sat down, the tight rubber suit constantly reminding me of
my situation. "Ping" another message. I hurriedly finished the cereal and
moved over to the computer. "We did not give you permission not to go to work,
you feeble slave. You will be punished. Fetch the brown box from the cupboard
behind you..." I opened the cupboard door, revealing a large box. I pulled it
out, it was really heavy. "Ping" - another message from them, "Open the box you
worthless idiot, remove the hood, 2 sets of handcuffs and the bag marked
"weights", quickly". I did - it was packed full of bdsm items, gags, chains,
tape, cuffs, dildos, plugs, you name it, it was in there - and set them on the
desk next to my computer. "Seeing as you will not be at work, we have full
control over you. You have 1 minute to lock the hood to your collar, leaving the
keys infront of the webcam at the computer. Take out the 20g weights and lock
them to each of your nipple rings, then get on the floor on your knees and cuff
your ankles together, followed by your wrists to your ankles. Leave the keys
for the cuffs on the floor infront of you. Listen very carefully, we will
Messenger you when you may free yourself. If you move an inch out of position,
we will simply lengthen the time for your punishment AND add an extra punishment
for when you next visit us. It will be a long day, slave. Your time starts
now!" I had no time to think about the ordeal I was about to face. I locked
the weights to each of my nipple rings (the rubber suit cunningly had little
holes exactly over my nipples), pulled the hood on, locked it in place, got on
the floor and cuffed myself. Then I was stuck. Back on my knees, which still
hadn't recovered from the pillory experience, and this time with added
discomfort from the weights pulling on my nipples. Time ticked slowly, very,
very slowly...
I went through varying stages of pain and discomfort, my knees one minute,
overtaken the next by my nipples. I was disoriented in the hood, and I'd not
had chance to turn the central heating off - it was warming up outside and the
flat was getting hotter and hotter...not good with me stuck in the rubber suit.
Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime I heard the ping of a message
received. I fell to the floor, only to yelp in pain from the weights bouncing
around. I shuffled over to the keys and unlocked the cuffs, followed by the
rest. It was dark outside, the clock on my computer read 9pm - I'd been out all
day and most of the evening... The message read, "go straight to bed and lock
yourself into the same position as last night. In future, you request
permission for ANYTHING which differs from your usual routine, you insignificant
slaveboy piece of shit." I went to bed as instructed, hungry and upset. They
were taking control more than I'd thought possible.
At work I was useless. Every single moment I could feel the collar, tight
around my neck, I could feel my cock trapped and encased in steel, the rubber
suit made me hot and bothered and I constantly lived in fear of it being
discovered. I withdrew from my colleagues and friends more and more. This was
just what the Masters wanted. They took more and more control. They gave me
instructions on pretty much everything, not just on what to wear, but what I
could eat, when I had to be home by. No evening was the same - gone were the
nights I could chill out in front of the television. They had me exercising,
pushups, crunches, all manner of exercises. My body became more and more toned.
Many evenings they had me perform tasks such as writing essays about my devotion
to my Masters. I had to produce projects about torture positions and training
situations - things that were then obviously tried out on me. I was punished
for every single time I failed in tasks, in however small a way. Slowly they
were moulding me, not just physically, but mentally too. Some parts of the
routine became natural - it even got to the stage that it felt weird when I
didn't have to wear the rubber suit.
After 2 months I was instructed to take a day off on holiday, to await a
delivery. I had to wait for the delivery to arrive, stood up, weights on my
nipples, hooded and cuffed. When the buzzer rang I had to be out of my
restraints and at the door before the courier went away. As punishment for a
minor failing of mine earlier that week I had to accept the delivery still
dressed in my rubber suit - the first time anyone outside of my new world of
slavery had seen me as such - I was so embarrassed, but had no choice, conscious
that the cameras were undoubtedly watching my every move. There were 2 surly
courier men at my door, they had a box about 2 feet by 3 feet, which they
carried into my flat, chuckling at my dress sense as I quickly grew more and
more embarrassed. I got rid of them as quickly as I could, signing the
documents, mumbling something feeble about a fancy dress party being the reason
for my strange attire and ushering them out of the door, hearing their peals of
laughter on the street as I gathered myself and began to unwrap the box. Taking
the cardboard sides off, it soon became clear what this was...a small cage. My
Messenger rang out a "ping" as the final board came off the side. It was a
solid steel mini-cage, with a sheet metal base and steel bars. The message read
"this is your new sleeping area, slave. From now on, when not with your Masters
you will sleep only in this cage, unless we say otherwise. We feel it is time
you tried it out, take your hood, your gag, your butt plug and cuffs, prepare
yourself and get in. We will Message you when we want you to get out. You have
2 minutes"... This was how my life was run, instructions and then a time limit
by which I had to be ready - I did not have a single moment spare anymore,
unless I was locked in a position of their choosing, when I then had all the
time they desired, but it was never my own time, I was constantly on their time.
The cage was small, uncomfortably so, it was impossible to stretch out,
impossible to get comfy, added to the fact I was cuffed, hooded and plugged -
something that from that moment on would become my regular sleeping attire. I
had no idea how much longer I'd be able to cope with this, but one thing I kept
repeating in my mind, it surely must be better than being trapped in their
dungeon 24/7 for the rest of my life, as contract 2 threatened...
I lasted 2 years before I broke. The first 12 months I had to completely
reorganise my life to fit in my new obligations, I distanced myself from friends
completely. The tasks I was set became increasingly difficult, but I carried
on, I had no choice. The £300 payment per month was crippling me, but I had no
option but to pay it. They knew everything about me and I was powerless. The
weekend visits filled me with dread - one month I'd failed miserably at some
tasks I'd been set and was sentenced to a whole weekend locked in the pillory on
my knees, every other hour I was whipped and paddled. I had to take the week
off work to recover - it took me that length of time to be able to sit down
without bursting into tears - but of course during that week I was under their
control non-stop, there was no letup in the instructions they gave me, the
punishments I received. Then during the next 12 months the Masters increased
the pressure. Due to my repeated failure on the tasks my payment was increased
to £450 per month. I had to take up a second job in the evenings (when the
Masters permitted it) working in a bar - the Masters chose a leather bar for me
to work at - presumably they had some contacts there. My humiliation only grew
as I was used as the bar slave, forced to do all the worst jobs. I even had to
be the slave for people to experiment on during private bondage parties held in
the function room.
I was constantly knackered. I'd deserted my family, the Masters had control of
my life. I lost my office job, my performance had sharply taken a turn for the
worse, I was pretty much useless so they let me go. The Masters seized the
opportunity and had me work full-time at the leather bar. I had to throw away
my suit and lived and lived exclusively in the bdsm world. Then finally I
snapped - I had £600 left in my account, I withdrew it and ran! Knowing I
couldn't fly with all the metal devices locked onto me I took my car and drove
into Europe. I'd gone off the rails. I'd been trapped in the chastity device
now for nearly 2 years and was at the end of my tether. I couldn't face another
task and absolutely dreaded another weekend of torture.
I survived on the run for 2 weeks before the Leather Masters caught up with me.
They'd bugged my car on my very first visit and using a GPRS system they could
pinpoint my exact location. They presumably let me have a little time to make
me think I'd gotten away with it. I was at a campsite in remote western France.
They jumped me at night, jabbing a needle into my arm and injecting me with a
drug that completely knocked me out. I awoke in their transit van, mummified
head to toe in duct tape and with ropes lashed around my body fixing me to the
floor of the van. All I could do was wait. Driven, presumably back to UK, I
began to realise what awaited me. The end of contract 1 and the beginning of
contract 2, the one they said would last for life...
To be continued...
